


So save us all

by Spiltlava



Category: Saints Row
Genre: Based on a tumblr plot, Boss is Asian Albino, Gen, It's not specified but this takes place in the same universe as To Hell with Boats, M/M, Written while half asleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spiltlava/pseuds/Spiltlava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Person A patching up or changing the dressing on Person B’s severe burn wound with no anesthetic. <br/>Person B’s most effective pain reliever during the process is burying their face into Person A’s shoulder.</p>
<p>——</p>
<p>B)</p>
            </blockquote>





	So save us all

—“ _Fuck, man._ ”

Johnny’s curse is quiet, and more to himself.  
He realises, distantly, that he doesn’t want to tip off the kid sitting on his bed.  
He’s not really a kid anymore, now, though. He’s twenty years old.  
Still. Johnny sees him, and he sees the fifteen year old who didn’t talk or look anyone in the eye.

With a set frown on his face, he exits the bathroom with only gauze in his hands.  
—“ _Couldn’t find any anaesthetic, or pain reliever._ ”  
He says it quickly, but it hangs in the air for many minutes like an anvil.  
Weighted, and very much real.

Playa’s hands clench on his knees, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at him.  
He looks too much like when he was a kid, it’s no wonder Johnny still makes mistakes.  
There’s no talking, it feels like nobody’s even breathing either.  
Someone’s waiting for someone to say something first.

 

—“ _S’fine._ ”

It’s forced out, he can tell by the way playa’s teeth are clenched.  
Johnny makes his way to the bed, kneels down in front of the younger and tries to meet his eyes.  
It takes a few tries, but eventually he’s staring into pinkish-purple.  
A frown sets itself on his mouth, and he attempts to ignore the bad feeling in his chest.  
He doesn’t apologise, because it’s not his fault. It’s not either of their faults.  
They wouldn’t be in this position if Julius wasn’t such a fucking _prick_.

—“ _Just do it quick._ ”

 

Neither says anything after that. Gat reaches up and slowly unties the knot of the current bandages.  
There’s really no point in that, because they’re pretty much falling apart.  
Barely holding on in some places, clinging to injured skin in others. This is going to be painful.  
The first patch he gets to where it clutches to playa’s left side, angry red in colour,  
He tries to be gentle when he pulls it away, taking pauses every time he hears a sharp intake of breath.  
It doesn’t matter, though, because by the time he’s done with that one piece, playa’s shaking.  
Trembling almost violently, his knuckles are white against his thighs, and he’s avoiding Gat’s eyes.  
He can’t ignore how bad he feels that time.

The next time he gets to where it’s stuck to skin, it’s on playa’s back.  
Johnny’s up on the bed now, trying to ignore how bad the younger is shaking.  
It doesn’t immediately come off his skin, and panic briefly races through the older.  
No, instead it’s revealed that it’s threaded into his newly healed skin.  
Removing this gauze would be tearing off some of his flesh.  
In any other situation, Gat would be more than happy to do that. Wouldn’t hesitate like he is now.  
But this is playa, the kid who he visited whenever he could when he was in prison.  
Glimpses of him on life support, breathing through a tube and looking _fragile_.  
This is playa, who got him out of his death sentence and is slowly rebuilding the Saints.  
Playa, who is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was out of the game for five years.  
For some fucking odd reason, he doesn’t want to hurt him any more than he has to.  
 _Kid’s been hurt enough_ , his mind supplies. Gat silently agrees with it.

 

—“ _Just do it._ ”  
Playa’s voice cuts through his thoughts, and Johnny blinks at his back.  
He’s trying to calm his tremors, and instead of them being continuous, they happen every few seconds.  
—“ _Make it fast._ ”

And Johnny does. He tears it off as quick as he allows himself.  
He ignores how playa cries out and hunches over, taking gasping breaths.  
Instead, he focuses on how blood wells to the surface of his back, doesn’t look at the gauze.  
He knows what he’d see if he did. And it’s bad enough that he doesn’t want to see playa’s skin on it.

Gat leaves the bed momentarily, leaves playa with his heaving, with his nails pressed into his knees.  
He knows he wouldn’t want him to make a big deal out of his reaction. It’s natural.  
Returning with a wet cloth, he at least tries to stop the bleeding, which has now began to trickle.

—“ _Fuck!_ ”  
It’s wheezed from playa’s open mouth, and he sees the muscles in his back work.  
—“ _Fuck. God damn it, fuckin’ shit, that hurt like a bitch._ ”

Almost wants to apologise, but Johnny knows that would just bring unwanted attention.  
He keeps cleaning away the blood until it stops.

 

Now he’s back in front of playa, whom’s eyes are clenched shut.  
Gat pretends he doesn’t see a specific wetness to his lashes.  
It’s a bit of a lost cause because the next time Johnny pulls some gauze away from sweaty skin,  
Playa’s all but falling forward into him. His overheated forehead is against Gat’s shoulder.  
He can feel his heavy, forced breathing against his thin shirt.   
It was too hot for a jacket, but now he almost wants to put it back on.  
That would require moving, and he doesn’t want to risk it.  
He thinks playa would topple to the floor if he did. So he’ll stay put.

 

They stay in that position, which makes it a bit difficult when it comes to his back,  
But it helps playa, or at least, that’s what it seems.  
  


Johnny brings his free up, once he’s got all the old gauze off, and runs it through damp hair.  
Playa’s not saying a word. This isn’t really unusual, but it still makes him nervous.  
He knows he’s still conscious, though, because his eyes are looking anywhere but Gat.  
—“ _You’re doin’ good, yo._ ”  
It’s spoken quietly, as playa pulls himself away from the older.  
He looks uncomfortable, and Johnny wipes the last of the blood that’s slipping past the wounds.  
—“ _We’re halfway done._ ”

Playa’s nod is shaky, but it’s something, and Johnny brushes blond hair out of his face.  
He leans back to grab the fresh, clean gauze, and starts unwrapping it slightly.  
Looking back to the younger, he waits for his confirmation before he does anything.  
When it comes, he starts with wrapping it over his shoulder.

As soon as he can, playa’s back at his shoulder, hissing through white teeth.  
Gat can’t quite ignore the wetness sinking through his shirt.  
He doesn’t bring attention to it. He can’t imagine how painful this has to be.  
Getting shot in the knee is different than getting caught in a boat explosion.  
 _Minor burns, his ass._

 

He gets it a quarter of the way done before playa asks him to stop, voice strained.  
Gat does immediately, hands freezing as he listens to the hindered breath.  
—“ _I feel sick,_ ”  
It’s said quietly, doesn’t sound like it was the right thing playa wanted to say.  
—“ _Lightheaded, I mean._ ”

—“ _Like you’ll pass out?_ ”  
All he gets is a confirming noise. It’s worrying.  
He’s no doctor, but playa was adamant about not going to the hospital for this.  
 _Seen enough of them_ , he said, _And I trust you more._  
—“ _I’ll try and be fast. Lean on me, come on._ ”

He maneuvers him so he’s caught up against him, while still giving Johnny room to work.  
It’s fucking terrifying how shallow playa’s breathing becomes, but he’s still responsive.

Gat almost wants to sacrifice quality for time, but he just knows that it’ll make them redo this sooner.  
 _Just work through the pain_ , his mind chants, _We’re almost done, kid._

 

The relief that pours through him when he ties the new gauze is immense.  
Playa takes the deepest breath so far, no doubt testing how he could breathe.  
Seeing if it was too tight. Johnny was careful, at least, in that regard.

He looks him over, notes the sweat-slicked skin and the watery eyes.  
—“ _You all right?_ ”  
It’s a shitty question and he knows it the second it leaves his mouth.  
At least playa smiles, though. He leans back in to rest against Gat’s shoulder.

—“ _No,_ ”  
He replies, and it’s the answer he knew was coming.  
—“ _I’m in a shit ton of pain, and I want to sleep._ ”

 

—“ _Tell you what,_ ”  
He’s not moving away, or shifting. No, instead, he lets playa stay like that for as long as he needs.  
—“ _I go out, steal you some pain killers. The good shit, not that generic bullshit._  
 _—And then you can sleep, all right?_ ”

 

Playa makes a noise, and maybe he doesn’t realise when he does it,  
But he noses his way into Gat’s throat. Gat isn’t sure how he feels about it.  
—“ _You’ll be right back?_ ”

—“ _Course I will. You know me._ ”

—“ _I know you take your sweet time._ ”

Johnny chuckles, turns his face into blond hair.  
—“ _Not when you’re obviously in pain._ ”

Playa sighs, but it’s sounding suspiciously like he’s already falling asleep.  
—“ _Too good t’me._ ”

Gat smirks, feels how his body grows languid against his larger structure.  
—“ _Damn right I am._ ”

  
  


He waits until playa is asleep to go grab the pain killers.  
Leaves the bottles he’s hijacked in the bathroom, along with some anaesthetic.  
Getting the anaesthetic was tricky, and put blood on his hands,  
Yet if it meant the next time they had to do this shit, it’d be easier,  
He didn’t give a fuck.

 

When he returns to the bedroom, playa’s still resting.  
He dims the lights and goes to the spare, deciding he’ll catch a few hours himself.

 

The Saints are back in town, and soon everyone’ll know.

 


End file.
